


Bare Necessity

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, F/M, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Hannibal sleeps with his shirt on and Bedelia is not happy.





	Bare Necessity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awayfromsight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awayfromsight/gifts).



She knows it should not bother her. It was her who suggested he purchased it in the first place. Above all, she is annoyed with herself for developing habits and _attachments._ Yet, like an itch in the back of the throat you cannot get rid of, the nagging thought persists on her mind.

“This is very comfortable,” Hannibal comments, examined his new pair of pyjamas, his fingers skimming over fleecy cotton in a deep shade of cobalt, the end product of their afternoon shopping excursion. It was not something he was planning to buy, but as he usually selects nightwear for her, she decided to do the same for him. She does not know when they have become so _domesticated_.

Bedelia watches as he puts on the trousers and then, to her surprise, the top. Her eyebrow rises slowly as he fastens the buttons; she had never seen him wear a pyjama top. She reckons he’s being polite; he does adore when she chooses things for him. He parades his new outfit proudly up and down the bedroom, searching for her approval. Bedelia rewards him with a smile; it looks good on him even if the view lost some of its _charm_ due to the addition of shirt.

She thinks nothing else of it until they settle themselves into bed. Hannibal embraces her as usual, his arm firm around her waist until she is flush against his back, the cotton pressing softly against her exposed skin. And something feels amiss. Bedelia shifts and tries to make herself comfortable. She listens to Hannibal’s even breaths, telling her he’s already asleep as snug as ever, but sleep does not come to her. A bother she cannot put her finger on remains on her mind. She drifts off eventually; her tiredness winning over the nuisance in the end. But the impression remains.

When she wakes up in the morning, she quickly brushes away the thoughts of last night; in the light of day it appears as merely a result of her over analytic mind. Nothing had happened after all.

 

Perhaps he really likes it, Bedelia concludes as Hannibal enters the bedroom that evening with a full set of pyjamas still on. Her eyes follow him, her gaze somehow stricter as it lingers on the shirt.

“Is something the matter?” he asks, noticing her narrowed stare.

“No,” she responds, blinking her unexplained irritation away and lying on her side of the bed.

Hannibal smiles and joins her. He opens his arms and she shifts closer, allowing him to hold her. Her head rests on his chest, as it had countless nights before, but tonight feels different. She stirs, her cheek searching for the most agreeable spot, but as soft as the cotton is, she is bothered by the feel of the material against her skin. The realisation comes to her slowly, as she continues to move. She misses the feel of his bare skin against hers. How _ridiculous_ , she tries to tell herself, but it does not ease her mind. On the contrary, her mind is more agitated than ever while she tries to dispel this notion. It takes her longer to fall asleep that night, having finally realised her _problem_. Her sleep then is uneasy and she does not feel rested in the morning.

 

Bedelia does not intend to bring up the subject. It is one thing to choose clothes for him, but admitting she needs him in any way to fall asleep is another thing entirely; it is laughable at best.

The following evening, she does not wait for Hannibal to retire to bed; she curls up on her side, the sheets pulled tightly around her body. Shirt or not, she does not require Hannibal’s body to stay warm, she was coping just fine without him all her life.

“Bedelia, are you all right?” Hannibal’s worried voice reaches beneath her covers. She feels the mattress shifting as he lies down next to her.

“I am fine, Hannibal, just a bit chilly,” she responds firmly, hoping this will end the questions; she does not let herself dwell on the thoughts in the back of her mind.

But Hannibal moves at once, wrapping his arm around her. Normally, she relaxes under his touch, but now she feels constricted by the layers of fabrics around her and between them. The barrier she set up so cautiously has not made things easier and Bedelia tenses despite his tender embrace; it has undoubtedly not escaped Hannibal’s attention. But, to her relief, he says nothing, and Bedelia nods off at long last, facing another restless night.

 

“Perhaps you should stay in bed today, Bedelia. You might be getting a cold,” Hannibal watches her closely as he brings her the morning coffee and sits back on the bed, the last night’s occurrence still fresh on his mind. He treads cautiously, knowing that she does not like to when he is being overprotective for no reason.

Bedelia takes a slow sip from her cup, not noting his careful choice of words, only wishing she could ignore his comment.

“That won’t be necessary,” she speaks at last, “I am _fine_.” She repeats the well-known phrase once more, the one that always alerts Hannibal. This time, however, she actually is fine. Physically, anyway. Still, he continues to observe her and she knows he is worried. But that is his issue; she is too preoccupied with ignoring her own.

 

She can sense Hannibal’s intense stare piercing through the bed sheets. Bedelia is nestled on her side once more, tangled in covers. She expects him to comment, but, again, he does not. Instead she feels a slow shift in the bed as he lies behind her. The arm goes around her, gentler this time, and he holds her close to him, wanting to ensure she is warm and comfortable.

“Are you not feeling warmer?” he asks after a moment, sensing her rigid body against his, the worry in his voice more notable now.

Pressing her lips together, Bedelia sighs and stirs; Hannibal’s grip loosens, allowing her to turn. She looks at him and meets his gaze full of genuine concern and desire to help her. Her fingers skim across the surface of his shirt while she contemplates her next words.

“The fabric does not promote warmth,” she states and her hand slips away.

Hannibal tilts his head and Bedelia sees his eyes becoming wider as her words sink in and recognition washes over him. She in turn averts her gaze, feeling _silly;_ she barely said anything, but she still said too much.

Without a word, his eyes still fixed on her, Hannibal unbuttons his shirt and takes it off. Bedelia watches him out of the corner of her eye, but does not move. He waits patiently and after a moment of stillness between them, he lies down on his back, an open invitation.

Slowly, as if drawn in by an invisible lure, she approaches him. Her hand rests on his chest first, flat palm over taut muscles, fingers instinctively sliding through his chest hair and Hannibal smiles, enjoying the caress. The warmth radiating through her hand, up her arm is so inviting and, as much as she wishes to deny it, she craves it. Finally, she rests her head on his chest, skin against skin and feels as the heat sips in, expanding slowly through her body, all the way to her core. She inhales deeply and the familiar scent of his almond soap drifts into her nostrils. Her tense muscles unwind and she presses herself more closely to Hannibal; her body now languid and pliant, fitting ideally against his.

“You should have told me to take it off,” he speaks at last, whispering quietly. He makes no other remarks, relieved that she is all right. His fingers gently sweep her hair from her shoulder and tenderly stroke her exposed neck. Bedelia’s lips stretch in a tiniest of smiles against the skin of his chest.

By the time his arms wrap around her, she is already asleep. A flicker of a new reflection remains kindling within her; one grateful that her body recognises and understands the needs of her heart better than her stubborn mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Lena, hope you liked it! Apparently there's no limit to the number of stories I can write about them sleeping together. This intimacy between them is everything. ♥


End file.
